


The Duke Returns

by deviltakethehindmost



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:01:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5670190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviltakethehindmost/pseuds/deviltakethehindmost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas is finally butler of Downton and everything is finally going well for him. Then the Duke of Crowborough decides to pay a visit and makes everything complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Philip's eyes hardly leave him for the majority of dinner. It was a strange stare, his eyes were totally focused on him wherever he went. When he leaned over to pour the Duke another glass of wine, he could feel his breath on his neck and he turned to watch him. The whole thing was quite unnerving. Lord Grantham noticed this behavior too and obviously felt the need to comment.

“I suppose you remember Barrow from your last visit,” he said, which caused Philip to finally look away from him, “He's probably the only face you recognise from the staff. Although he is butler now.”

And Philip smiled at that. He looked up at Thomas, who had been staring at him this time, and their eyes met. Philip held his gaze for a moment, then gave him a quick nod and turned his focus to the plate of food before him.

For the rest of the dinner Philip didn't look at him once. When they went through for drinks he still avoided him, although not totally. At one point, while stoking the dwindling fire, he turned around to find Philip's eyes on him for the briefest of seconds. Then they were gone. 

This continued into breakfast the next morning too. Only Lord Grantham and Tom were there. Philip chatted and charmed them but didn't give Thomas as much as a second glance after he sat down. 

After breakfast Thomas had to walk into the village to collect a parcel of silver polish he had ordered. He was only about two hundred yards from the house when he heard a car approaching from behind him. A sudden surge of dread coursed through him and his worst fears were confirmed when he turned to see the Duke of Crowborough's car slowing down as it neared him.

“Where are you headed?” Philip asked, as he brought the car to a stop beside Thomas.

“Just the village,” Thomas replied and began to walk again.

“Jump in and I'll give you a lift down then,” Philip said, edging the car forwards to keep beside him.

“Thank you but I'm fine to walk,” Thomas tried to smile but was certain it seemed much more like a grimace, “It's really not very far and I like to stretch my legs.”

“Well, there's plenty of leg space in here, you can stretch your legs out as far as you want.”

“No thank you,” he almost snapped.

“If you don't I'm just going to drive beside you the entire journey.”

“You do that then, sir,” Thomas replied with about as much sarcasm as he could muster, “No one will be concerned by you stalking the butler at all.”

“Don't be an arse, Thomas,” he sighed, “Just get in the damn car.”

That was what really made Thomas' blood boil. He liked to think that he was now a much kinder, nicer and altogether happier person but he did on the occasional incident, see red. 

“Oh, I'm the arse, am I?” he raised his voice slightly with each word, “Because from what I remember you're the one who makes that his speciality. In fact, I'm fairly certain you're a professional at it.”  
“At what?”

“Being an arse. So if you could kindly fuck off so I can walk to the village in peace that would be just grand,” he finished with a flourish. 

Philip drove in silence for a minute or two. Thomas couldn't work out if he was lost in thought or just so furiously angry that he couldn't even speak.

“That was fair,” Philip said, “You could have said much, much worse.”

“I can still say it, if you want?”

“I'd much rather you got in the car,” he replied and Thomas could practically feel the sly smile of the Duke's lips.

With a loud and overdramatic sigh, Thomas walked around and got in the other side of the car. Philip watched him with wide eyes as if he couldn't quite believe his insistent badgering had worked. Thomas had calmed down enough to chuckle at the other man's open mouthed expression.

“Thank you. It's really not that bad is it.”

“Seats aren't very comfy,” Thomas huffed.

Philip laughed at that and Thomas found himself holding back a smile. He didn't want the man thinking he was enjoying his company or anything like that. 

He took the opportunity to properly look at Philip. The Duke looked almost the same as ten years ago, although his hair was a little thinner. Thomas thought he even saw a grey hair or two. That made him smile.

“We've both aged rather well, haven't we?” Philip said, waking Thomas from his thoughts.

“I suppose.”

“You're even more handsome than I remember,” Philip smiled and seemed as though he was about to say something else but stopped.

Thomas doesn't reply. He didn't want this. As soon as he'd been informed the Duke of Crowborough was coming to Downton it had been his mission to avoid any proper conversation with him at all costs. He also hadn't been keen on being alone with him either. Things really hadn't worked out at all how he had intended.

“Sorry,” Philip said, “Shit...I didn't mean to be like that. I don't have an ulterior motive, I just saw you and thought I should offer you a lift. I was just trying to be nice. Just thought I'd go for a short drive round the countryside, it's so pretty up here, you know? Everything's so green and lovely. It's nice. There's a smell to it all too, it's like proper fresh air. You don't get that smell in London, you see I live there permanently now. It's nice most of the time.”

“Is nice your new favourite word?” Thomas asked, interrupting the babbling man before he could talk any more nonsense. This was new; nervous babbling wasn't something Philip had ever done when he was younger.

“Pardon?” Philip asked, looking genuinely confused by the question.

“You described almost everything as nice. I was just wondering if you always had such a penchant for overusing it,” he explained, slowly, as a blush formed on Philip's cheeks. That wasn't something Philip had made a habit of either. This was like a different man altogether.

“Fuck. I'm making a right mess of this. First time seeing each other in all these years and instead of apologising like any decent human being, I start chattering about the smell of the air.”

“Apologising? What for?”

“Don't make me say it. I'm frightfully ashamed of the way I behaved,” Philip admitted.

Thomas couldn't believe it. Now Philip babbled and blushed and apologised. This had to be some strange parallel world where Philip was a decent man.

“I'm sorry for breaking your heart. I'm sorry for abandoning you when I knew fine well that you were in love with me. I'm sorry.”

“Alright.”

Philip slowed down so that he could take his eyes from the road to look at Thomas disbelievingly. 

“That's it?”

“What did you expect?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

As he realised the situation was quickly escalating, Philip at least had the good sense to pull in to side of the road and stop the car. Then he turned to face Thomas.

“Don't you have anything else to say?” 

“No.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing at all. You said sorry and I accepted your apology. We both have closure now.”

Philip's mouth formed into a small 'o' at that. Obviously he'd been expecting a lot more from Thomas. Probably a reconciliation. Probably to resume where they'd left off. Although looking at Philip still made his stomach feel odd, he had enough common sense to know that starting again things would just end badly.

“What did you expect, Philip?” Thomas laughed harshly, “You thought if you pretended to be a changed man and say sorry, I'd jump back into bed with you?”

“No, I didn't think that. It's just-”

“You've not changed one little bit have you?” Thomas raised his voice, “You thought I'd swoon into you arms and I'd be letting you bugger me by tea time. You're still a fucking prick. Goodbye.”

With that Thomas exited the car and jumped the fence into the nearest field. Philip couldn't drive in there after him. Of course, he'd neglected to consider the fact that Philip could leave the car just as easily as he had.

“Thomas! Please! Don't do this!” he called, as he approached the wire fence. 

Thomas ignored him and continued his march across the field with no particular destination in mind. He had just realised that he was traveling in the complete opposite direction from the village, when he heard a yelp from behind him. When he spun around he was greeted with the rather hilarious sigh of the Duke of Crowborough with his trouser's caught in the wire of the fence.

“Could you perhaps give me a hand?”

“Why should I?” Thomas asked, desperately trying to hold back a laugh.

“Because I'm stuck,” Philip replied, he looked quite panicked.

“Ah but I could leave you until someone finds you caught on a fence with your arse stuck up in the air.”

“You wouldn't.”

“Wouldn't I?” Thomas was on the verge of tears as he tried not to show his amusement.

He turned away and took a few steps, mainly just to gauge Philip's reaction. And he was not disappointed.

“I'll do anything you want!” his voice called out, somewhat desperately. 

Now that was an interesting proposition. He turned back around to face Philip.

“Anything?” he asked.

“Yes, anything,” Philip replied, he looked ready to cry.

Thomas walked towards him and his face lit up. Within a minute he had him separated from the fence and standing up beside him. Philip took a few deep breaths and he attempted to regain his tattered composure. 

“So you'll do anything I want?” Thomas smiled and looked the Duke up and down slowly for good measure.

“Uh-hu,” Philip all but whispered as Thomas took a step forward.

Just as he was about to press their lips together, Philip closed his eyes in expectation. Thomas stepped away again.

“Leave me alone.”

Without another word Thomas jumped the fence back onto the road and walked speedily toward the village.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedback and support, it has been lovely! I'm hoping to keep this updated pretty regularly unless I run out of inspiration or get distracted.

After a busy day at Downton Thomas looked forward to nothing more than sitting in his office with a good book and good glass of port. It was the day after their altercation in the field and Thomas had done everything he could to avoid the sad puppy looks Philip was shooting him every five minutes. He had started to wonder if Lord Grantham would pull him aside and enquire as to what was going on. 

As he walked down the corridor he began to ponder what he would say if that really did happen. Probably just deny everything. He opened the door to his office and closed it softly behind him. Then he turned into the room, flicking on the light. That was when he saw him. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Thomas all but shouted, as he stormed towards Philip, who was sat behind his desk with a rather smug look on his face.

“I realised the only way to get you to talk to me was to catch you unaware.”

“So of course you decided to sit in my dark office and wait to terrify me,” Thomas said, as he walked over to his decanter and poured himself a drink.

“Aren't you going to offer your guest one?”

Thomas ignored him and swallowed the drink in one swift gulp. He was tired, exhausted, in fact. Totally not in the mood for having another argument with Philip. All he wanted to do was read the quite exciting detective novel he'd started earlier that week.

“Just go,” he sighed, as he poured another drink.

“I'm not going to do that, not until I get a glass of port at least,” Philip replied.

If that's what it took, then Thomas was more than willing. It wasn't expensive port anyway. He marched over to the desk with a glass in hand and slammed it down in front of the other man. Although it seemed as though Philip was still enjoying this, for some bizarre reason. Then his smile faded, suddenly, and he looked at Thomas with sad eyes.

“I found my heiress you know. She was new money, her father made his fortune in the railways and he could think of nothing better than his only daughter marrying a Duke, no matter how penniless that Duke may be. Then her father dropped dead a month after the wedding and she inherited almost everything.”

“That must be lovely for you. Does she know you-”

“She's dead,” Philip interjected, taking a sip of the drink, “Died during childbirth.”

“God, Philip. That's terrible,” Thomas said, horrified to find he was feeling sorry for the Duke, “What about the child?”

“Dead too, about three hours after his mother. They told me he his lungs hadn't properly developed and there was nothing that could be done,” Philip said, obviously struggling to continue speaking, “I held him in my arms and watched him die. His little fingers were clutching my middle finger when he finally slipped away.”

And that was when he finally broke down. The sobs started small but within thirty seconds they were massive. His shoulders were shaking and the noises, god, the man was breaking his heart. Thomas didn't have the faintest idea what to do. He walked round to his side of the desk, then he sort of awkwardly put him arm around Philip. This was hardly how he'd imagined his evening would end up.

“I'm sorry, god, look at the state of me,” Philip sobbed, as he leaned into Thomas' abdomen.

“Don't worry about it,” Thomas replied, crouching down beside him so Philip could cry into his shoulder instead.

“My wife, Elizabeth, knew what I was and she didn't care. It meant she could live life without a controlling husband. I didn't love her or anything like that but she was my friend. I wanted to love her. I really did,” he said, “But I just couldn't!”

As he spoke the sobbing had lessened but he started off again at that. The Duke of Crowborough Thomas remembered was a cold, manipulative bastard. He didn't show any real emotion. Yet here he was now: sobbing into Thomas' shirt. Apparently people really did change.

“Thomas, don't you sometimes wish you were normal?”

He had to laugh at that. Who would have guessed that a year or so after trying to forcibly change himself he's be sitting as butler at Downton discussing it with the Duke of Crowborough of all people?

“I bought some medicine that was meant to change me,” he replied, “And then I tried to kill myself but that wasn't just because I'm queer.”

Suddenly Philip stopped crying enough to look up at him. He looked up at him with a mix of sadness and pity in his eyes. Typical. His life was even more messed up than Philip's.

“Everything's fine now,” he tried to smile, “I'm butler. That's all I ever wanted.”

“Was it? From what I remembered you wanted to get out of service for good,” Philip said, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of his dinner jacket.

He smiled as Thomas offered him his handkerchief. 

“I was young and daft with ambition back then,” he laughed, “As I got older I realised that there wasn't much else for me.”

“God, that's tragic.”

“Thanks, Philip, seriously you always knew how to make me feel better.”

“Sorry.”

Thomas was still crouched down next to him. He had managed to recover his composure and tried hand Thomas back his now soaked handkerchief. Quickly, after realising that was not his cleverest move, he laughed, stuffing it into his top pocket. 

“You're so handsome. After all this time I'd started to think my memory was exaggerating you,” Philip whispered, though his voice was hoarse from the crying.

“Please don't do this.”  
“Do what?” Philip asked, apparently genuinely confused.

“You know I can't resist you when you start talking like that.”

“Then don't.”

That was when Philip moved in to kiss him and Thomas was so close to letting him, to kissing him back. He couldn't though. He wasn't about to let all of this happen again. Philip's head came to a stop against his cheek and he stayed there with their cheeks pressed together.

“Please. I need you, Thomas.”

“I don't need you, Philip,” he said, “I'm sorry about what's happened to you but this isn't going to work.”

“We could make it work. I could come up here, book into a hotel nearby and you could come to meet me. Won't the family be coming to London for the season? We could spend every night together! Or you could come work for me! Since my wife died I own and operate a railway company...you could be my secretary!”

“Don't say foolish things you don't mean,” Thomas sighed, as he pushed Philip away from him and stood up.

“But-”

“I think it would be better if you went back to your room now.”

“Thomas, please,” Philip begged.

“I'll walk you to your room if you're not sure how to get back.”

Philip stood up but didn't move, he looked Thomas straight in the eyes, tears pouring down his cheeks. This was the hardest thing Thomas had ever had to do but it definitely had to be done. He was in a good place and he wasn't going to let anyone have a chance to ruin it.

“Thomas please. I love you.”

He walked over to the door and held it open. Realising his cause was lost, Philip followed him but paused in the doorway. Without another word he leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to the other man's cheek, then left.

For the rest of the night Thomas sat at his desk, staring straight ahead and contemplating what on Earth had just happened. The next morning at breakfast he was glad to see that Philip looked as if he'd had just as bad and sleepless a night as he had.


End file.
